PEACE is no peace when all its dream is war; Nor are repasts beneath the hair-swung sword, That awed in Syracuse the tyrant's board, Such banquets as the peoples hunger for. Not to Europa's bull need toreador Wave scarlet provocation; and Accord Blooms ill from arsenals for ever stored With mouths of death for ever in act to roar. An areopagus of nations let Men found hereafter, puissant to restrain Flaunted armipotence, whether on earth or sea Or the outraged air, and suchlike peace beget As Tully envisioned; peace itself being vain, That is not also tranquil liberty. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CLOUDS: THE CLOUD CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES TERNISSA, FR HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR CARELESS LINES ON LABOUR by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 49. AL-MAJID by EDWIN ARNOLD A LOVE-MESSAGE by LILLIAN CORBETT BARNES GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 12 by RICHARD BARNFIELD |